Just a Tale to Tell
by desoldeben
Summary: In a war, not all are heroes. These are one-shots of various people of Elibe, showing portions of their life. Not all may be heroes, but all are definitely people. They all have a tale to tell.
1. Elicion

**Disclaimer: Elibe does not belong to me. However, I am proud to say all characters in this chapter belongs to me EXCEPT for Brendan Reed, the game's Four Fangs, Legault, Niime, King of Bern, whose name is not even mentioned, and the Wyvern General, whose name is also not mentioned.**

**AN: I thought I would deviate from the main work so as to refresh myself. Hopefully this piece is good. I plan to make more of such one-shot of self-created characters throughout Elibe.**

-x-x-x-x-

Elicion

The Black Fang has fallen. With its fall, so had Elicion's life.

Ever since the last stand made at the sealed shrine, the remnants of the once-feared Black Fang were now just fair games to the bounty hunters who never would have dared when the group was at its prime. With the defeat of Brendan Reed and his Four Fangs, the rest of the group had no choice but to hide and evade their pursuers. The alternative was death.

Elicion was still alive and, therefore, was still on the run. For the last three months, the only thing occupying her head each day was the task of surviving the day she had woken into. Everywhere she turned, she saw danger. She could not trust anyone nor stay in one place too long. She was at loss how to escape the grueling fate that was death.

Still, she did not want to die and that is why she still hoped for a safe-haven somewhere in Elibe.

_It's futile. The blasted King of Bern had succeeded in his demand to other nations for all members of the Black Fang to be handed to him to be executed. Nowhere is safe. It's just a matter of time._ The rational corner of her brain sadistically hurled reality at her, ridiculing her desperate struggle.

_I do not want to die._ This had been her motto ever since the fateful day. It had kept her alive so long.

-x-x-x-x-

At the moment, she was in a village that was tucked within the harsh mountains of Ilia. She hoped this secluded village could provide the sanctuary she was looking for, away from Bern and death.

She seeped the warm tea she had earned after hours of healing the sick in the town. She was glad clerics were well-received in most parts of Elibe, especially in a desolate village such as one she was in now. The tea was slightly bitter, but had a sweet aftertaste. It was extremely soothing, relieving some of the stress she had acquired from her run. It had been awhile since she had the luxury to relax.

"Where are you from, lass?" The village herbiest who had brewed the tea sat beside her. The old woman poured a cup of her own and seeped the tea as she waited for the cleric to answer.

"I'm from… from Bern." Being a terrible liar, she was unable to prepare an answer in time to the unexpected question.

"Bern? You mean where the terrible Black Fang business happened?"

"What? Oh… Yes." At the mention of The Black Fang, she was not able to hide her surprise. She gulped.

"Your name?" The woman's smile was warm.

"Eli-Elicion."

"You are a lovely girl, Elicion. Both in looks and in heart." Even though the compliment came from a female, she still blushed at the comment.

"What's a nice girl like you doing in a mountain such as this?"

"I'm… I'm training my skills as a cleric. I… umm… wished to b-be better." She hated how she stuttered when she lied.

"Hmm. Is that so?" It was then that Elicion thought that the old lady's eyes saw through the falsehood. Her palms started getting sweaty. She bowed her head down, unable to keep eye contact with the herbiest.

There was a stretch of silence, the only sound coming from the herbiest as the woman drank her tea.

When the lady spoke, Elicion flinched.

"I believe you are a good girl, Elicion." Elicion wondered why the lady was telling her this.

"When you healed the injuries of the poor Hulg just now, you really seemed to devote your all, even though you looked as if you were about to drop dead any second. I could see the compassion that is within you." The lady put down her cup. "You must leave."

Elicion looked up in surprise.

"There are pegasus knights coming to catch you. We knew you had to be part of The Black Fang when you first arrived, three days ago. We had reported then, hoping to earn the rewards for those who need it in the town. The pegasus knights will be arriving today, no doubt. You have to leave."

Fear seized her heart. The lady dragged her to the door. Once outside, she saw that the young girl was still petrified.

She slapped her out of the daze.

"Listen! They are coming! If you do not wish to be caught, you have to leave now!" The outburst shook befuddlement. She began to run into the wilderness, desperate to put distance between herself and the village.

As she watched the young girl disappear, the lady thought _I wish you escape capture, young lady._ She entered the house, wondering what could have made such a girl join a group of assassins.

-x-x-x-x-

She had been running for hours in the snow. The terror had been able to support her frenzied rush but now even that was not enough. Without a warning, her legs gave away and she fell face first into the snow.

She tried to get up but found it futile. Thinking of the pegasus knights that could be on her tail at the very moment, she tried again. She failed again.

_Where will you go even if you could get up? It's a matter of time. You cannot win. Give up. _

_I don't want to die._ She yelled the words but could not hear them.

She began to sob. Tears melted the snow around her face and wet her face. The moist feel was something she had not experienced for a long time, not ever since she had joined The Black Fang ten years ago.

-x-x-x-x-

Tears rolled down Elicion's cheek. The girl did not bother to wipe them from her face as nobody was there to see them.

She was in the caravan heading to a Noble's mansion in Bern to be in service to the aristocrat. The prospect of having to live in a foreign environment, at the whim of a nobleman was terrifying. "Mother…" She buried her head into her arms. Her imagination painted a life of hardship for her future, cornering her into a pit of terror more and more.

"Aagh!" A scream came from outside.

It was abruptly cut short. More screams and sounds of metal crashing into metal followed. _Bandits! _Elicion leapt to the door to peek. Indeed, a group of assassilants were eliminating the caravan guards who resisted. Elicion retreated deeper into the caravan wagon she was locked within. Bandits, which were an immediate aspect of her life, now took the role of terrifying her. She shivered in her hiding place between the barrels. Then she covered her ears, encasing herself from the world outside. She continued to sob.

The lock on the door came free and the door opened. The metallic screech of the old hinges pierced her hands into her ears. Elicion covered her mouth to prevent herself from gasping.

"Elicion? Are you here?"

Her hands dropped away in surprise at the sound of the bandit calling out her name. The man saw the tiny movement and approached her. Elicion could not see the face of the man – it was too dark – who grabbed her arm and began to drag her out. In her dazed state, she did not resist, although doing so would have been futile. The man pulled her out until her weak legs gave away; then he carried her out.

Once out, he dropped her gently onto the ground. A ring of the man's companions formed around them, murmuring. In the moonlight, Elicion could finally make out the bandit's face. She blinked at the familiar face.

"Uncle Gearl?"

A smile decorated the battle-worn face. He knelt down and hugged her. "You recognized me!"

"What's going on?" The last time she saw him was a year ago. It was a night her mother and he argued enormously and he cut all contact with them after that. Elicion had eavesdropped on the furious exchange at the time, and now she recalled that it had something to with her uncle's group of friend called 'The Black Fang'.

At her question, her uncle fumed again.

"I cannot believe the atrocity of that woman! How could she? To give you to the pig for coins! A cleric in service to a noble? My ass! Did she really not know he would have used you as a whor–"

"Gearl!" A purple-haired man scolded the man. The outburst brought her uncle to his senses.

"Thanks, Legault. I must have been mad. To say something like that to an eight-years-old girl." He turned to her. "I want you to come with us, Elicion. Do you want to live with me?"

"With you?"

"Yes. Instead of the noble you were being sent to. What do you say?" Gearl waited worriedly, expecting his niece to throw a tantrum and demand to be sent to his damn sister. He sighed in relief when the lass nodded timidly.

"Welcome to the family, Elicion!" Elicion was hugged by her uncle again. His friends started to gather around the girl, friendly smiles forming on their face. Her uncle began to introduce them. He gestured at the man with purple hair who had reprimanded him. "This is Legault, Elicion. You can call him Uncle Legault. He's my most trusted friend…"

Her uncle had merrily continued; all the while she was focused at the thought that she was going to be with her uncle from now on. She looked at her uncle and smiled, which only brought out a bigger smile from him.

-x-x-x-x-

The memory of her uncle gave her enough strength to upright herself and lean on the rock nearby. However, that was about it. The merciless snow had begun to fall. Elicion folded her legs to herself so as to contain as much heat as possible. The cruel cold reminded her another time she had cried, much more recent and more painful that she was astonished that she had forgotten it.

-x-x-x-x-

She had been sobbing on her bed.

"There, there, Elicion. Gearl would not have wanted you to be like this." Uncle Legault tried to calm her with a hand on her shoulders.

She paused her sobbing long enough to retort, "How would you know! He's dead! He would not have wanted anything because he's dead!" She shook the hand off her.

The Black Fang's hideout had been hit heavily in surprise from the Bern forces. As one of non-combatants, she had been evacuated immediately, while her uncle had remained to hold off the assaulters for others to escape.

"A person is not gone when he's dead. He is gone only when he's forgotten. If you do not bother to remember what he would have wanted just because he is dead, he is truly gone." Legault winced slightly as he spoke, his wound starting to affect him; it was not life-threatening, just painful.

"He should have escaped with us! How did he hope to take on one of the Wyvern Generals? How could he?"

"He did it so that many of us won't have to die in the wyvern knight's hand. It was in his nature to save. Remember him as such and don't waste the life he had saved, Elicion."

His words comforted her. She stopped her sobs.

"You are hurt." She noticed the gash in his side.

"Nothing too serious. Some vulnerary can heal them."

"That's what clerics are for." She reached for her staff.

Legault smiled, knowing she was going to hold herself well. His friend's niece was as tough as his friend had been.

"Uncle Legault?"

"Hmm?" The pain began to fade.

"Thank you."

"That's what uncles are for."

-x-x-x-x-

_He's probably dead too._ She reminisced at the memory of the man. Long time ago, when she was only nine, the thief had been her first crush. After the childish affection had passed, the man had continued to be a huge part of her life. _Uncle Gearl and Legault. I think I am finally going to die._

Her consciousness was already hazy. She wanted to stay in the curled position and sleep. She knew hypothermia was setting in. If she slept now, she will probably not wake up again.

_Would that be so bad? No more running, hiding and living in fear._ Her eyes closed. She had given up.

_I still wish I live somehow._ She could not feel the outside world. It was a matter of time.

Her last thoughts were _Will I be gone? Forgotten from memories of others? _She answered. _Probably. _

Darkness claimed her.

-x-x-x-x-

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" A man looked at the girl he had just saved from freezing to death. She was still unconscious but was no longer at the danger of dying.

"Here I am, coming back from a nice little tea party with the hag Niime and I just have to pick up an attractive lady for myself. Too bad I'm taken." The man thought to himself for awhile.

"I wonder if Mark's willing to take in a stray." He hoisted the girl on his shoulder and set off.

-x-x-x-x-

**AN: I have this problematic tendency of not letting my characters die. This girl is kinda like that, I guess. Oh well. I will have to flesh her personality out more in future if I ever use her again. Hopefully you guys liked this. **

**If you want, suggest character ideas of different people in Elibe. There are so many I would not have thought of. After all, not all are heroes in war. Some are obviously villains, while others are heroes no recognized and many are those who just suffer but are not sided with any. Suggestions are welcome and begged for (no, really)!**

**Please Review!**

**That's about it. desoldeben out. **


	2. Levin

**Disclaimer: I own everything that did not appear on the game. That means countries and people who appeared on the game are not mine. No duh.**

**AN: Well. I was away for a long time it feels. I was kinda feeling low and disappointed about my writings. I felt like scrapping it so many times, let me tell yeh. I felt they were not to standard. I still kinda do. Thanks to Gunlord500 who told me to give more. It helped a lot. Made me feel better. Why am I giving you a sob story? Here you go. Enjoy.**

-x-x-x-x-

Levin

_Cool down, Levin. Cool down._ He released the arrow. The crow dropped from the sky. He walked over and picked it up. _Right through the neck. Excellent._ He dropped the catch into his sack and nocked another missile. He surveyed the sky.

There were no sky-dwellers in sight. With no prey to focus on, Levin's thought reverted to the source of his anger.

This morning, he had learned that his father, the town elder, had conspired with the rest of the town to supply more war horses to the Bern noble, Lord Macavre.

Had it been under different circumstances, Levin would have been delighted at the prospect of making business with nobles. His town may be better off than some other rural settlements in Bern, but were not in the position to be refusing income.

However, the situation was different. There was the Black Fang.

Being the major source of war horses used by nobles in Bern, his town was not favorably looked upon by the criminal group. They had already received threats about pursuing more business with nobles being detrimental to the town people's well being.

In the town meeting carried out to discuss the threat, Levin had made a strong stand for heeding the assassins' words. He had been a mercenary before, and knew ruthlessness of war. His father, however, had a different idea.

Once again, Levin felt his father was too idealistic. The man could not fathom the terribleness of people and did not really believe them possible. He made good, kind and honest decisions – traits a leader should have – but expected other people to be as good as him. Not believing the Black Fang's threat to attack a defenseless rural town, the man had decided to further having more business with Lord Macavre, the town's top customer. Levin felt frustrated at his father's naivety.

He did not want his town to suffer for this. He had a family here. A wife and a son. He did not want Nadia and Denning to come to any harm.

With a shriek, an eagle took to the sky. Levin's attention was on the creature immediately. He drew the bowstring to the limit and waited for an opportunity to present itself. Nobody ever gets to shoot a second arrow at eagles; they were too intelligent and agile.

_What my father did cannot be helped. It's not like Lord Macavre would have allowed his best supply of local war horses to refuse him._ He knew he should be clearing his thought for the shot, but they just kept coming.

_What I can do is to make sure my town is saved from whatever the Fang chooses to do. Protect Nadia and Denning with the best of my abilities. _He kept his eyes on the beast. He did not blink. The beast was rising; it must have spotted a prey and was gaining altitude to launch itself at its target.

_If I do not do my best to protect those I treasure, I have nobody to blame but myself. _The eagle reached its peak. Levin released the arrow.

The majestic creature fell.

-x-x-x-x-

As he was heading back, Levin was feeling quite good about himself. He had caught quite a handful today. Granted, they were all just small catches – except the eagle – but combined, they formed a decent pile.

He was thinking about whom in town would be willing to buy whatever he was willing to sell as he emerged from the wood. The town came into his view.

He dropped his hunting sack at the sight. The town was razed.

Many buildings only stood in its frames. A few areas where buildings used to be only had piles of ash instead. The entire town was coated with soot. There were no people in sight.

Without picking up his day's work, Levin dashed into the town.

-x-x-x-x-

It was a massacre.

The streets were littered with corpses with sword wounds and burns. Had he stopped to check, he would have recognized some of the corpses. However, Levin scarcely noticed them. He was running through the streets like mad, stepping over the ruins and the dead, heading for his home. _Please be okay. Please be alright. Nadia, Denning._ He sprinted and did not stop until he reached his house.

It was one of those rare buildings that were more or less untouched by the flames. The walls were only singed, but not down. Levin hoped this was a sign that his family was safe. He touched the metallic door knob to enter.

"Agh!" He quickly withdrew as the scorching heat assaulted his hand. The knob was far too hot to touch. He grimaced as the pain gradually appeared. _I need to get in!_ He ignored the pain and launched a kick at the door. With a mighty crack, the door fell before its owner. He rushed in, shouting out his wife's name. "Nadia!" There was no reply. He began to search the rooms.

There was nobody. His family was gone. Panic began to set in. _if there is no body, you cannot assume they are dead. _The thought calmed him a little.

He headed out of his house and went to the neighboring house. He knew the neighbor, a scholar by the name Melvin. The man was a polite and gentle person and had been his wife's childhood friend. Levin had never liked the guy – he had seen the scholar look at Nadia and knew the man harbored affection for her – however, this also meant that if anybody were to know the fate of his wife and child, it would be the scholar, assuming the man was alive.

When he entered the house, which was also among those unconsumed by the blaze, there was Melvin, sitting against the wall, a pool of blood surrounding him.

Levin assumed he was dead, until he heard the man speak.

"Levin!" Melvin never had ill feelings towards him, despite Levin being the husband of the woman he loved.

"Melvin! You are alive?" Levin approached the man.

"Yeah," he gasped, pain searing from his stomach wound, "not for long though."

"Don't say that." Levin was surprised he meant those words.

"I know my wound." Levin opened his mouth to protest, but was cut short. "Listen to me, damn it!" Levin had never heard a profanity from the man before and was silent in surprise.

"You are here because you wanted to know what happened to Nadia, right? She's not dead. At least, as far as I know. She was taken. She and her… ugh… her son." Melvin was struggling to speak.

"Who took them? Was it the Fang?" He had never heard of Fang razing a town to ground before, but could not think of any other culprit.

"No." Melvin looked up. "It was… Look out!" The scholar was looking behind him.

Instinctively, Levin dodged to the side. A blade shot through where he had been a second ago and embedded itself into Melvin. He died instantly. Levin turned to face his assaulter, expecting to see the black garbs of the Black Fang.

What greeted his eyes was a soldier in the imperial armor wearing a symbol of the lord he was in service to: Lord Macavre's symbol.

The soldier sneered, "fast, eh? You filthy forest hare. Should not have consorted with the Fang, redneck!" The man launched into an attack.

Levin dropped his unstrung bow and dodged the swipes. _Shit. _His hunting knife was tied to the sack of games he had hunted. As far as the soldier was concerned, he was unarmed; an easy picking.

However, Levin had not survived his career as a mercenary by being incompetent.

Sidestepping the swipe, he threw a bunch of books by his side at the offender's face. The man blocked with his free arm. Before the books had fallen, Levin was charging the man, a thick tome in his injured hand. The soldier saw the rush, and swung his sword at him. Levin raised the tome and to block the weapon from cutting into him. Melvin had spent majority of his finances into his books, so the tome was of good quality material as well as content. The sword did not manage to slice through. However, the impact made his already burnt hand throb with pain. Letting go of the tome, Levin continued to rush the man. The man tried to swing again, but the additional weight slowed him. Before the blade reached him, Levin stabbed into the man's throat with an arrow from his quiver. The arrowhead pierced the flimsy skin and sliced through the windpipe.

The soldier died without giving a coherent word.

Levin looked at the body with no remorse. The soldier's words had told him the story. Lord Macavre had attacked his town. His town had chosen the noble over the Fang and the son of a bitch had rewarded them with death.

Wordlessly, Levin picked up his bow and strung the weapon. After a brief word of prayer for Melvin, he stepped out stealthily. He saw more soldiers now. _They must be checking for survivors._ He nocked an arrow. The hunt was not over yet.

-x-x-x-x-

It had been an easy battle. The noble's men were just thugs in armor. Decent in melee but simply idiotic in warfare. Against a ranged assault, they had not stood a chance. Levin had killed all he could, before the survivors fled likes dogs with their tails tucked between their legs.

_I need more arrows. _He was currently looking down on the sack of games he had caught. He picked it up and made way to his destination. He knew the general direction to Macavre's city. _I'm sure the city can provide me with some. _His wounded hand reminded him of its presence with pain. _It's going to leave a scar._

He was going to kill that man. How was the question. If he found his family alive and well – despite being taken by Macavre's men – he was going to kill the scum quick. If not, the man was going to have an excruciating and lengthy death.

-x-x-x-x-

"Bar tender. A mug of ale. Strongest you have." Levin sat in the corner of the room. Many turned their gaze to him, only to quickly look away. It suited Levin fine. He was not here to make friends anyway. He never was.

Usually, Levin did not drink. His life was dangerous enough when he was at his sharpest mind. Being drunk only increased his chance of being caught or killed; although two were essentially the same. However, tonight was different. For some unimaginable reason, he kept remembering that night, despite it being more than a decade ago. He needed to forget.

He had killed the Macavre a few days after he reached the city. The noble died an excruciating and lengthy death. Ever since then, he became a vagabond, traveling around and looking for those he lost. He had never seen Nadia and Denning again.

After more than a decade, he no longer searched. However, he continued to wander, not willing to stay around civilizations; civilizations where families existed.

He had continued hunting nobles who were tyrant. He had a reputation. He was the Huntsman.

It was not such a terrible life. He was a hero among the oppressed. He was respected by people he cared about and feared by those he hated. He was well-known within and somewhat known outside Bern. There were many times he almost died, but Levin's skill of escaping surpassed that of his killing. He had killed quite a handful of scums who had treated the peasants like dirt and killed them without remorse. It was not so bad. Hell, even the Black Fang offered him a place once, although he had declined the offer in no uncertain terms.

However, tonight, his memories of that fateful day assaulted him, making him remember what he had lost. Making him feel his current life was pathetic, a result of his failure.

It burned painfully, just as his hand had. His gaze turned to the scar on his palm.

The ale arrived with a clang on his table, diverting his attention away from the wound. The serving girl's eye met with his. He saw her blush in shyness as well as fear before darting away. _The girl is sweet on me. I think it's time I left this town._ He had liked this town and was sorry he had to go.

He was about to drink the ale when the chilling wind entered as the tavern's door opened. Levin put down his drink and looked at the new comer. He was undoubtedly a swordsman; the man's elegant weapon could be seen. It was a deadly weapon designed for speed and accuracy. The man himself was dressed in a white garb of Sacaen design. His long black hair that was dancing in the wind also informed Levin the man was Sacaen. _Sacaen swordmasters are deadly. _

The man entered the building and shut the door. People did not return to their drinks. They had sensed that this man was dangerous.

The man ignored the rest and approached him.

"Are you the Huntsman?" Levin's heart began to beat faster in anticipation at the words. The smarter people got up and began leaving.

"Who wants to know?" His voice gave none of his tension away. His hand rested on the bow beside him. Many of the others in the tavern began to follow the smart ones.

"The Sword Demon."

-x-x-x-x-

**AN: Alright then. This was kinda spontaneous work. I always liked the bad ass characters and decided to make one of my own. Maybe it's not as refreshing as unique characters, but I don't want to make all the non-fighters before I spew out the fighters. Please don't be disappointed. I assure you my next work is going to be more original.**

**Btw, offer me ideas and I will do my best to put them up too. Please?**

**desoldeben out.**


	3. Husk

**Disclaimer: I own every character in this chapter except for two. Their names are Lyn and Hassar. I do not own Sacae. I also do not own the organizations, settings, cultures that appear in the game. If they are in the game, how the hell am I going to achieve that?**

**AN: This one is a bit long, I hope the length does not equate to tediousness. That would suck bad. Ah well.**

**Gunlord500: Levin appeared from top of my head. I never really bothered with earlier FEs, I was just one crazy nut for the Blazing Sword. Hence the Denning.**

**Nils-Fimbulvetr: Your wait is at the end. I hope you enjoy.**

-x-x-x-x-

Husk

Husk should have been at his work place.

Instead, Husk was on the floor, covering his face as well as he could with his right arm. A kick crashed into his left side, where his kidney was. The pain was excruciating; it was something he would never get used to, no matter how many times he was assaulted in such a manner. Another kick stomped on top of his left arm but he did not care about that.

"You filthy half-blood bastard!" The shout contained no remorse; in fact, one could almost hear the glee in the voice of the perpetrator of violence.

Husk did not protest; his past experiences had taught him that protesting only fed his attacker's violence. He curled up tighter, starting to feel excess pain from bruises that were starting to form.

"Don't you think he's had enough, Kirin?" It was one of Kirin's 'friends', although he never considered them his equal. Kirin's companions usually were the ones who prevented the Sacaen from injuring him permanently.

"As if, Jurn. This trash thinks he can lay his eyes on Lyn. Must make sure he learns to not do so." Kicks continued to stream in as the Sacaen spoke. A lucky – or unlucky, from Husk's point of view – shot bypassed his defending arm and struck his mouth. Taste of blood came.

"Stop that right now!" At times, it was this voice's owner who stopped Kirin.

The kicks stopped. Unlike his friends' words, her words never needed to be told twice. Husk gasped heavily, letting his body relax, knowing the onslaught is over.

"Hello there, Lyn. I see you still look lovely." Kirin's voice had lost its cruel edge.

Honeyed words did not dissuade Lyn even slightly. "What is this, Kirin? Why are you kicking Husk?"

"He's just getting what he deserves, that's all." He may be courting her, but he was not going to cower to her for that; Kirin was too narcissistic to submit to anyone.

"Nobody deserves to be kicked senselessly." She challenged.

"I assure you, Lyn. Some people do." He would not back down.

"Tell me what he did then, Kirin."

"I say his very existence earns him what I've dished out." His tone clearly indicated his lack of intention to comply her command. "Why should you care about what I do to the one-armed retard anyway?"

There was a furious glint in the swordswoman's eyes. "Get lost, Kirin."

Her choosing Husk over him enraged Kirin. He growled, "Answer me, Lyn. Why are you so protective of this filthy half-blood?" One of Kirin's companions, one Husk knew to be smarter than others, gasped at Kirin's choice of words.

Lyn slowly hissed the words out, "I am a filthy half-blood myself. Kirin of Lorca." Her right hand grasped the hilt of her iron sword tightly.

Kirin realized what he had just done. "I am not calling you filthy, Lyn. It only applies to…"

"GET LOST!" She cut him short in mid-sentence. Kirin hesitated at being yelled at, but slowly backed off; he knew he had crossed the line this time. He left and rest of his goons followed.

Husk watched them gone. "Well, that's a relief." His voice startled Lyn out of her anger and made her attend to his condition.

"That looks terrible." She gently prodded his beginning-to-swell lips. It hurt, but Husk was not going to refuse gentle care from the girl he was sweet on because of that; he was good at tolerating pain anyway. He feigned indifference. "I've had far worse."

"That does not necessarily make me feel better."

"Yes, yes. I am a selfish bastard." He groaned inwardly at his inborn jerk attitude. It was how he behaved when experiencing awkwardness and currently, he was feeling very awkward from Lyn's proximity.

His reply caused her to frown. "You have no excuse to be rude."

Her reprimand sparked some anger in him. "Excuse me? I've just been kicked around by probably the strongest youngster in the bloody tribe. Forgive me if I feel that it is an appropriate time to be rude."

"Even if that's so, why are you taking it out on me?" Her sharp retort brought Husk back to his senses.

"I..."

Lyn, who had quite a temper herself, was not done yet. "I don't understand you, Husk! You are always pushing people away, even those who want to be near you! What is wrong with you?" With that, she stomped away.

_My left arm is only an elbow. I am a one-armed retard. Perhaps that is why I push people away. _Guilty from his earlier outburst, Husk did not yell out his answer. He watched the back of Lyn until she disappeared among the tribesmen of Lorca. Then he spat the remaining blood out of his mouth and headed back to his workplace.

-x-x-x-x-

"You are back, eh, boy?" An old man's voice croaked as Husk entered the hut.

"Yes, elder. I have returned." He saw the elder, sitting in the well cushioned area of the hut – made by Husk – watching him like a hawk despite his poor eyesight.

"If my near-blind eyes serve me right, Kirin still got good kicks, eh?"

"He's as healthy as a bull, elder." The elder did not patronize nor show pity; that was why Husk liked him.

"I only wish he's as half as smart as the beasts. At least they have no troubles getting mates, eh?" This was also why Husk liked the elder.

"I completely agree, elder."

"Well, get to work, ambidextrous boy." Of course, the elder was not always likable.

Silently, Husk began to clean the hut and arrange the goods. The elder provided the tribe with herbal pastes and remedies, and it was Husk's job to make sure the man was able to get his hands on the ingredients and instruments necessary for the job, as well as attending to the man's other basic needs.

"Forget all that, Husk. Come here, I got to talk to you. And bring me my pipe."

Husk was curious about the man's deviation from the daily routines, but was wiser than to question his command. He took the three-foot long pipe and brought it to the elder.

"Aww, good stuff." The thick smoke began to feel the hut as he breathed out. The elder breathed in a couple more times. Husk waited patiently.

The man looked into his eyes. The piercing eyes tore into Husk's soul, giving Husk the impression of his sanctuary of mind being invaded. He knew such feats as mind reading was impossible, but thought that if such a feat was possible, this extremely knowledgeable man would have been the one to be able to do it.

"I have a job for you, Husk." He spoke after a lengthy silence. Husk waited for him to continue.

"I have a satchel by my side containing some vulnerary and a vial of elixir. I need it delivered." Husk gasped at the content. Elixir was very rare in Sacae.

"I want you to take them with you and go where Kirin and his goons are."

The words were rather unexpected; Husk could not prevent himself from muttering, "What?"

The elder frowned at his helper's outburst but did not remark. "You heard me. Go where the imbeciles are. They are probably hunting in the woods near the Bern Mountain. Go there."

"You want me to deliver to them?" Husk did not conceal his irritation.

_**Crack! **_The pipe smacked into Husk's head. "Do not be rude, boy. I will not tolerate such a thing, even if your sweetheart does." _She's not my sweetheart. _Husk was smart enough not to talk back.

The elder took another drag from the pipe before continuing, "Go to them, and you will know what to do."

"Yes, elder." He lowered his eyes so as to not show his state of upset.

"And, one more thing, Husk."

"Yes, elder?"

"Take your entire travel equipments."

"The entire travel set, elder?" Husk asked in confusion.

"Yes, yes. Why are you so daft today? The entire set."

"Why, elder?" He could not resist asking, despite risking another whack on the head.

"I hear there is a below-average-intelligence bull in the forest near Bern Mountain. That's good enough reason as any, eh?" The old man grinned.

"I understand, elder." The annoyance Husk had for the old man vanished in that moment.

"And do not forget the old Sacaen saying; running in forests slows more than walking." Husk puzzled over the elder's enigmatic words for a moment and then left the hut to fetch his gear.

-x-x-x-x-

Husk was deeply worried about this duty.

He was going to do it, no doubt. Husk was not going to disobey the elder; that could have some unpleasant consequences. However, to be by himself in a forest except with Kirin and his goons was not exactly conducive to his health either. _This is some snag I've gotten myself into._

He wrecked his brain to the best of his abilities as he followed the trails left by the not so subtle Sacaens; broken branches and bent leaves marked their path.

He wondered how he was going to give the vulnerary and the elixir to them, assuming that was what the elder wanted him to do even though the man had not explicitly said so. _Maybe if I just toss these damn things and run the hell for my life, I can lose them. No, they have both hands. They will not fail to catch me. How about I figure out where they will go and leave these at the… _

"Who the hell do you think you are?" A shout came from the trees.

Husk cut his train of thought at the recognition of Kirin's voice. He ducked, expecting the brute to come charging at him at any moment. Only then did he realize – as he hid behind the tree to his side in anxious state of mind – that Kirin could not be asking him the question; he would have recognized his favorite punching bag anywhere.

Crouching, Husk began to head towards the location where Kirin's voice came from. Eventually, he saw Kirin and his goons in a small clearing just under an overhang where Husk was. He had a good view of the Sacaens beneath while being well-hidden.

Husk was also able to see who Kirin had shouted at.

They were burly men, with well-muscled bodies and hard looks. They had features similar to the Bernese men Husk had seen in the merchant caravans from time to time, albeit much bulkier in size. These men stared back at Kirin and his companions with no visible indications that they were intimidated or impressed. In fact, Husk saw some of Kirin's friends exchange nervous glances between each other. Among the strangers, a man stepped forward. From his posture, Husk assumed he was the leader of his group.

The man had an unruly tangle of hair and a frame that out-sized even Kirin. His clothes were in need of some repair and the tears revealed an armor of sorts underneath. A one-handed axe hung by his left side by a strap. He ran his left hand through the messy hair as he observed the Sacaen. He radiated confidence with his swaggers.

Husk noted in surprise that the man had no right hand but for a stump.

"I am Ijvul, pup. Watch your tone when you are addressing your betters."

Kirin's lips curled in contempt as he noted the man's disability.

"I am Kirin of Lorca, Ijvul, and I return your own advice to watch your tone when you are addressing your betters; just as a smart cripple should." He snarled.

Husk noticed slight shift among Ijvul's men. He turned his gaze back to their leader to see how he will react.

The man laughed.

It was a booming and intimidating laughter and Husk's stomach churned as he listened to the sound. Kirin slightly flinched at the man's outburst as well.

Then as suddenly as it started, the laughter ended. The silence that followed was heavy and tense, only broken when Ijvul spoke flatly, "you know what to do, lads."

Then the man launched a punch at Kirin.

Immediately, a fighting ensued.

The Kirin's guys were strong warriors, promising young men of Lorca with a lot of potentials. However, as of then, they were only just potentials and not skills. On the other hand, the men of Ijvul were obviously battle-hardened fighters who had often fought by each other's side. Ijvul's men slowly began to emerge victorious from the conflict, slaying every one of Kirin's friends.

Only Kirin was left alive at the end, bleeding from wounds he got from Ijvul's axe. He dropped to the ground when his opponent kicked him in the torso. Before the Sacaen could get up, Ijvul stomped his foot on the guy's chest hard to prevent him.

"Not so tough are you, pup?" The man leaned closer to Sacaen's face. Kirin could only cough out blood.

"I've lost my hand when you were just sucking on your mother's breast like a piglet. I do not appreciate being called a cripple by pups like you." His feet pressed harder, causing Kirin to groan in pain.

"I feel mortally insulted, you see. And I think I will seek to wash my anger away with your tribe's blood, Kirin of Lorca. I have some friends who will help me. Ever heard of bandits called Taliver?" The pressure from the foot still had Kirin groaning. The man smirked at his obvious agony.

"While being a cripple, I also happen to be Taliver leader's right hand man. I'm sure I can get some of fellows to join me on the adventure. They've heard Sacaen women are fierce ones, and they love fierce ones." He took his foot off.

"Well then, I will go look for my friends now, Kirin. You have some rest. You look to be in pain." Ijvul laughed at his own joke and began to walk away.

Husk witnessed Kirin's final moments.

With a growl, Kirin got up despite his severe injuries and charged at the man. He slammed his hands into the man's throat and began to choke his windpipe while the man fidgeted helplessly, unable to pry the vice-grip fingers with only one hand.

Then one of Ijvul's men came from behind and slashed at Kirin's back. From the depth of the blow, Husk knew it was fatal. Slowly, as if reluctant, Kirin crumbled and died.

Ijvul rubbed his neck for a moment then kicked at Sacaen's corpse. He and his bandit thugs then disappeared into the forest, heading towards the Bern Mountain.

-x-x-x-x-

Husk remained in his hiding for a moment, observing what he had just witnessed.

Kirin was dead. Husk was ashamed to realize that he felt small, cold satisfaction at the man's death. The years of abuse had run deeper than Husk had realized. He was relieved to find himself not dwelling on the man's death too much. His thoughts were mainly focused on the Taliver bandits; they were bandits notorious for their strength and heinous conducts. He had no reason to believe that Ijvul would choose not to attack his tribe just because Kirin was now dead. In fact, it seemed likely that the man will attack the Lorca as a form of reprisal for what Kirin had done. That made his next course of action obvious; he had to warn the tribe.

Before he headed back, he looked at the corpses below him. _They are dead. Not even elixirs can heal the dead. _This thought made him to glimpse at the satchel he still had with him. _Guess I will have to keep these with me. _

He suddenly jerked away from his distracted thoughts. _I need to focus! _Despite the common sense of not rushing in forested hills, Husk did so.

-x-x-x-x-

There are many times risky ventures cause people grief when they do not have luxuries for such things. As there is no way people can dominate fate, they must learn not to be hasty and tempt misfortune.

Husk was going to learn this lesson at this less than opportune time.

Just as he was about to exit the forest, a root caught him and tripped him. He fell to his left side and would have grabbed on the tree branches that surrounded him had it been not for his disability. He desperately flailed with his right but failed in his attempts. To his left was where the downslope began so his fall was considerably long. He crashed fully into a fallen tree trunk and impact drove the breaths out of him. Had he not been wearing his leather armor – which was part of his travel gear – he would have broken some ribs.

However, while he was uninjured in such a manner, his consciousness was slipping. _No… I need to… get back…_

His fall had also brought him out of the forest. He could see the huts of the tribe despite his blurring vision.

Darkness claimed him.

-x-x-x-x-

Husk was awake. He knew the fact from the pain. That and the glaring light of the twilight sun.

Various parts of the body kicked by Kirin ached sorely, informing him that the formation of bruises was proceeding fantastically. His chest where he crashed on to the trunk also hurt. He knew that he was lucky to be left with only bruises for this one. His travel leather vest had protected him adequately.

Once he regained his head, he recalled the gravity of the situation. _I need to inform Chieftain Hassar. _He looked up from the ground to the settlement.

There was no settlement when he looked up.

All he could see were the demolished huts and burnt ashes where his home used to be. The tents were all collapsed, the market area just a chaos of cloth, the stables now nothing but wooden skeletons of its former self and there were no people in sight, not the living ones anyway.

A sense of failure overwhelmed him. Had he not been so careless, he could have warned the tribe in time and saved his people. Chieftain Hassar was dead, the elder was dead and all the others he knew his entire life were dead. Among those, Lyn's face appeared most vividly… and most painfully. Immense guilt flowed with his sorrow. _Because of my idiocy, Lorca is gone. No more._

He slumped into on to the ground, his leg too weak to support him. The movement made all his injuries smart. His eyes lost focus as he just stared at his destroyed home.

Then they came to focus once more as he detected movements: human movements.

When he could finally make out the group, the sight made his hands clench; it was a group of five bandits. From the look of it, they had remained after their comrades had left in order to continue looting. They all carried bundles of items that had belonged to Husk's people and were gleefully chatting among themselves, not bothering to be discreet. Why should they, when all threats were dead?

One of the thugs gestured at another's load across his shoulder and enthusiastically said something. The other returned the enthusiasm, shaking the load slightly to express his delight. Husk's attention was drawn to the load. Upon more careful observation, he could tell it was a person: a girl, judging from the clothing.

Husk's blood began to boil. What they would do to the girl was not even worth fathoming. The fury fuelled his lethargic body and he jumped to his feet. _I am going to kill them all._ Then the pain from his injuries caught up with him. Gritting his teeth, he tore open the satchel by his side and consumed a vial of vulnerary. The pain lessened, although did not disappear. Knowing that the rest will only slow him down, Husk set down the satchel. Just before he headed off, he took out the elixir and stored it in one of the pockets where his weapons were stored.

_Time to go. _He's eyes gleamed with determination.

-x-x-x-x-

"It was a good day today, Firnik?" Jelt called from his side.

"Sure was, Jelt. I got myself a new girl!" Firnik shook the Sacaen girl, who was bound and gagged, on his shoulder. She struggled feebly, but the earlier beating she received had stripped most of her strength.

"Yer not gonna get an inch o' sleep tonight, Firnik! That bitch look as fierce as drago… Ow!" To Firnik's right, Killben slapped the back of his throat as he yelled out.

"What's wrong, Killbe… Son of a bitch!" Jelt grabbed his right arm.

Both men pulled out their sources of pain. In their hands were darts.

"Darts? What crap is this?" Killben yelled out in anger.

"I see the barbarian!" Heckle called out from the front, pointing at the direction he saw the Sacaen for his comrades. They turned to see a boy among the woods, holding a blow pipe in his right hand. He did not have a left.

"Get the pup!" Firnik called out, not willing to let go of his prize yet. _A single boy can't possibly be a problem._

Jelt, Killben and Heckle took out their axe. Iodim pulled out his bow and began to string it.

Just as they were about to charge, two things happened simultaneously.

Killben dropped to the floor like a stone, unmoving.

The boy whipped out two small hand-held objects from his pocket and hurled it at the Taliver bandits. Immediately, thick smoke rose from the objects.

Iodim bellowed in fury, "son of a bitch has smoke incendiaries! I can't see him!" He still nocked an arrow and had pulled the bowstring, ready to fire at first sighting of the Sacaen. At that moment, another dart flew out and hit his leg. "Gah!"

Heckle ran to the archer, while Jelt continued to survey the surroundings. _I feel kind of dizzy. _A figure appeared out of the shadows and took another shot. "I'm hit!" Firnik's voice was heard. Jelt ran towards the Sacaen before he could hide in the smoke and swiped his axe to the his side. Due to sudden nausea that had overcome him, the blow was weaker than it could have been, but he knew it was a deep wound nonetheless.

"Ack!" The boy pulled back from the axe in a hurry, dropping his pipe in the process.

Jelt was about to deliver the killing strike but then he faltered. The nausea claimed him and he was gone.

Watching Jelt crumble, Firnik knew the darts were poisoned. Knowing that he was going to die, he dropped the girl and went with Heckle to kill the Sacaen. They reached the spot the boy was last seen, and saw a trail of blood. They followed the trail until it suddenly ended beside a tree. As one, they looked up.

The boy was there, his expression full of agony; blood flowed from the axe-wound. However, their attention was drawn to the item in his hand. Before they could react upon what they saw, he hurled it as hard as he can.

The last they heard was a loud _**boom.**_

-x-x-x-x-

Iodim was experiencing a lot at the moment.

He had heard the explosion and assumed his comrades were dead.

He was feeling nauseous. Like Firnik, he had put two and two together and knew what was coming.

He was enraged, which did not help slowing blood circulation and staving off the effects of the poison.

He knew he was not going to kill the ambusher.

He saw the girl, still bound and gagged, her eyes showing confusion and fear at the turn of events.

He saw the fear grow as she saw him aiming his bow at her.

He did not recall shooting as darkness claimed him, but felt the arrow leave the bow.

-x-x-x-x-

Husk was in all sorts of pain.

He had prepared himself for the fall when the blast from his exploding incendiary knocked him off the tree. Still, fractured ribs were nothing to laugh about. Nor was the deep axe-wound to his side, for that matter. However, he did not consume the elixir.

At the moment, he was worried about the girl. He knew the man was poisoned, and expected the man to know it as well. He knew man with knowledge of certain death could do drastic things within their capabilities. He hoped for the best but feared the worst.

He reached the clearing where he had ambushed the bandits and the sight distracted him from the pain.

The archer was dead. That was not what distracted him.

The girl had an arrow jutting out of her abdomen.

As swiftly as his severe injuries allowed him, he approached the girl. The girl was unconscious. She was alive but if unattended, not for long.

Husk knew what he was going to do. Without any hesitation, he untied the bounds and gags on her. It was hard in his weak and severely bloodless state. After he had done so, he pulled the arrow out, ignoring the girl's wince at the pain. He took out the elixir and tipped the contents slowly so as to not choke her with the liquid. Once the vial was empty, he rested against a stone by the side, too weak to support himself.

The sun was still setting, informing Husk that the battle was not that long.

His gaze turned to the girl he had saved, wondering how her life would turn out to be. _At least I did something right._ He did not think the words, _before I died._ Although he knew it was coming.

He wished to see the girl awaken before inevitable arrived, but his wish was not granted.

-x-x-x-x-

**AN: Husk is done. No pun intended. **

**Basically, I like this. Yeah I do. It could be better, it's a tad bit too long for my liking but guess what? I like the guy.**

**I wanted to save the fellow, maybe plot out a love story (I like the idea of love, just not all its applications) with the girl but my realistic pessimism took hold. After all, not everyone is immune to death, just like the main characters are.**

**I also did not want the girl to be one to be rescued, but could not put myself to have the bandits kidnapping a guy. That was quite far-fetched. Unless the guy was Lucius, I doubt the scenario likely.**

**Well, it's done, for better or for worse, after so many idea scrapping.**

**I have decided to scrap my main story by the way and restart with a whole new more structured plot.**

**That's about it ppl. I love the reviews, just to let you know.**

**desoldeben out.**


	4. Alyss

**Disclaimer: I don't own those who come out in game, but those are kinda hard to find, so make sure you dun get wrong impressions.**

**AN: So, this one is not so action packed, I'm not sure if you will enjoy it. I promise the next one would have much more interesting character.**

-x-x-x-x-

Alyss

_Four years ago,_

"Hush now. It will be painless." Gently, as if caring, Tablesse slit the woman's throat. Blood gushed in silence, as if complying with the assassin's words. His victim shuddered once, and her beautiful eyes closed as her last breath left her body.

Suppressing the remorse he felt killing such a young, lovely woman full of future, Tablesse set her down. He turned to the reason he had to kill the lady. The merchant cowered in fear and rage as the assassin's gaze fell on him. Tablesse saw the fear, but felt no joy observing it.

"I have killed your eldest daughter, Ligust. Next shall be your second daughter. Give me the documents and her life will be spared." Even to him, his voice sounded cold and cruel. It was like the whispers of winter wind that threaten the lives of those in the wild and then goes to carry on the threat. Lifeless.

"I swear to Elimine! I don't know what you are talking about!" The merchant's eyes shifted. The fingers fidgeted. The voice slightly trembled when he denied the knowledge. He was lying.

With a sigh, Tablesse reached for the unconscious second daughter of Edmund Ligust. The sleeping poison had taken a good hold over the girl; she did not wake even when he gently tilted her head back, baring her throat to the very dagger that had claimed her sister's life. _At least you won't be awake to experience your murder._

The blade was about to enter when Edmund bellowed, "no! Stop!"

Tablesse halted immediately. He was hoping any excuse not to kill this girl.

"It's there in the drawer. The false bottom. Just don't kill Alyss, please!"

Releasing his light grip on the girl's hair, he went to the indicated drawer. After smashing it into bits, he found the documents. He recognized the seal on the parchment. It was authentic.

Knowing he had betrayed his secrets to his allies, Edmund did not repress his fury.

"Curse you, Tablesse! Damn you to the Pits! How could you do this to me? How could you do that to Elizabeth? I used to trust you!"

Tablesse was now browsing through the document, making sure his new possession was no elaborate forgery. This gave time for Edmund to continue.

"It's all after you became an assassin! Is being the Harbinger of Blaze that great? Enough to make you turn back on all you hold dear? Enough to make you a monster?" Try as he might, Tablesse could not ignore the last bit of the merchant's rant.

"I acknowledge we were very close in the past. However, let me emphasize that those times are gone. Now, I am, as you have stated, just a Harbinger of Blaze." He stored the document on the inside of his fireproof shirt. Then he took out a spell tome from his bag.

"What are you doing?" The fear grew in Edmund's eyes. He had realized what the Harbinger was doing.

Tablesse set a bunch of paperwork on the table ablaze. They grew quickly, feeding vigorously on the aged parchments. He then turned to the merchant, intending to finish the man's life so as to spare him the pain of slowly burning to death.

He did not expect the man to be kneeling.

"Please, Tablesse. Save my daughter. Spare Alyss." Tablesse hesitated. Edmund saw the hesitation and pounced on the opening.

"I beg of you, Tablesse. For the old time's sake when I was your mentor. Just my daughter's life. You promised me she will be spared if I gave you the documents." Tablesse found himself being swayed by the pleading.

"I'm sure your employer did not request death of mere fifteen-years-old girl." Edmund made his last effort.

"No, I cannot say he had." The words came out slowly, as if the speaker was relaxed with relief. His eyes met the old man's. He could see merchant sighing with relief at his answer.

Another ball of fire was conjured. Edmund Ligust died instantly.

Tablesse's eyes turned away from his dead mentor to the man's daughter. _What have I done? _Carrying her in a bridal style, Harbinger of Blaze exited the building that was now being devoured by his namesake element.

-x-x-x-x-

It was deep in the middle of the night when Alyss regained consciousness. The first face she saw was that of the assassin.

She was scared.

"I see you are awake." The man put down the dagger he had been sharpening. Slowly, he approached her.

The terror gripped her throat, preventing any of the questions in her mind to be asked.

Harbinger of Blaze had reached her. His shoulder gripped her shoulder and he softly whispered, "your family is dead. I killed them. Your home is gone. I razed it to the ground." The voice showed no glee, no regret. No emotion.

The man raised the dagger, causing Alyss to tremble in fear. _He's going to kill me._

The dagger cut into her cheek, causing massive amount of pain, but did not end her life. It was not a simple cut; he wounded her left cheek from multiple angles. At the time, Alyss did not understand what he was doing, so caught up she was at the prospect of death.

As quickly as he had brought up the dagger, he dropped it to the side. "Now you bear my mark, Alyss. The mark you now bore is one of shame. Remember who had killed all you love. Never forget him and never forgive him." With those words, the Harbinger pulled himself away from her and vanished into the darkness.

Alyss collapsed, her legs no longer able to support her weight after the tense moment. Ignoring the aching of the dagger wound on her cheek, she drew her knees to her chest and cried.

It was only when she witnessed for herself the mark of Harbinger on her cheek – weeks later from that moment – that her sorrow transformed into rage.

-x-x-x-x-

_Present day,_

Alyss gently lowered herself into the room through the window. She did not make a single sound as she entered the house of her intended target. Once inside, she surveyed her surroundings.

In was a plain room, sparse with decorations. Rows of books on the bookshelf caught her eyes immediately. Quick skim through the spines of the books revealed that majority of the books discussed magical theories of anima. Rest seemed to discuss theories of the dark magic._ I wouldn't be surprised if he practiced dark magic._ She soon lost interest on the books.

She was currently carrying out her plan to assassinate Tablesse. She was waiting for the Harbinger to enter his domain, the last place he would expect danger, and to ambush the man when his guard was down.

The first phase of the plan had been difficult; it was no small feat to discover the location of the assassin. This task was especially so since the man had skipped Eturia – after killing his last employer, according to rumors in the industry – and settled down in Lycia.

The second phase was much easier. The man was in the country incognito, and that meant he had not been able to be too elusive lest he drew unwanted attention. Alyss had been told that he even had an apprentice once, although she doubted the apprentice learned the man's real trade.

The third phase was what she was doing now; waiting until the Harbinger returned to his home and eliminating him once he did so.

Alyss was jumpy. She had been told multiple times that she was far too impatient and direct for the line of work. She was never really an assassin material. But who cares? It's not as if she intended to continue the occupation after she avenged her family anyway.

In her boredom, her attention returned to the room she was in and then, inevitably, to the bookcase. While she was not much for reading, that did not prevent her from browsing through the titles. At the edge of the third row, a book caught her eye; it had no title. She pulled it out, and flipped through the content. Then she realized that she had in her hands the assassin's diary.

Not being able to hold back her curiosity, she flipped through the book. They were mostly stories of his childhood and his apprenticeship under her father. Not wishing to be reminded of him, she was about to shut the book when one entry caught her eye, one of the last in the diary.

_**I have played with fire. Monstrous, demonic, devilish fire. And everyone knows that if one plays with too much fire, he's going to be burnt. I, one of the most promising fire magic-castor of my time, am no exception. I must leave my mentor's service immediately before my curse kills them.**_

Alyss returned to the beginning of the entry and began to read.

**-x-x-x-x-**

_**Eight years ago,**_

Tablesse knew he was not going to fail as he glanced through the magical workings he had written down on the parchments. The calculations were correct. The magical theories he had referred from were reliable. The hypothesis he had set was coherent to logic. He knew it was going to work.

His heart trembled with excitement.

Documented in front of him was the theory he had been working on for the better part of the year; it was a theory to augment anima magic with destructive power of dark magic.

When he had first suggested his idea to Master Edmund Ligust, the man's reaction was flippant. His mentor did not believe the idea was possible; in fact, he felt the attempt was a waste of time. Knowing he won't receive support from anybody, Tablesse had worked on the idea by himself, hiding his research from all the others.

Tablesse was talented; he was recognized in the Eturian magical community as one of the most promising fire anima user among the younger generation. While grasping the theories of dark magic – or 'elder magic', as the man who had provided the tomes on the subject had termed the magic – was quite a difficult task, he persevered. Eventually, he knew enough to be able to invoke some of the simpler dark magic and understand the workings of the more complex ones. After that, he began to incorporate the magical theories of both magics he had deemed compatible with each other and his theory. He had carried out mild experiments as much as he dared.

Now, he had the finalized theory laid in front of him. He had checked through the procedures multiple times. He did not believe they would fail.

Never one to have self-doubt, Tablesse began.

The chanting was more toiling than he had expected. At every opportunity, the two magics tried to tear away from each other. He had to make sure they weaved around each other in a manner that assimilated them beyond their natural tendency to dissipate each other.

When he believed he had merged the two well enough, he released the spell.

The blast was astonishingly powerful. He knew. He had used Excalibur once before, and the feeling he had was similar, if not surpassing the legendary tome. He dropped the tome 'Hephaestus'– as he had chosen to title the tome – and approached the crater he had made.

When he reached the enormous crater, he felt faint. _I must be too excited. I need to get some rest. _He turned back to return to his tome when he suddenly detected magic from the crater. He recognized the dark magic essence that emanated.

However, there was nothing he could do.

Before he could even turn around to face the source of magic, the tendrils of the dark magic devoured him.

**-x-x-x-x-**

_**You are a fool, Harbinger of Blaze.**_Tablesse turned, trying to see who was speaking to him. All he saw was endless stretches of darkness.

_Who are you?_ He heard a strain of fear in his words.

_**What is this? Fear? From the all-knowing Harbinger of Blaze? **_The voice was booming in its mocking tone.

_I am no harbinger of anything._

_**Humility does not suit you, Harbinger. Where is the hubris of yours?**_

_I am not arrogant!_

_**You are not, Harbinger? I beg to differ. Only the arrogant seek to merge my magic with the pathetic magic of the spirits. Those and the fools. And you are no fool.**_ It was then that Tablesse realized that he was speaking to one of the elder gods that fueled the dark magic. He was overcome with trepidation. He had heard of how druids and shamans had their souls snatched away by the magic. He thought that was what happened to him now.

_But I did not cast any dark magic! You have no claim on my soul!_

_**Hahahahaha! You did not cast any elder magic? With the amount of my magic you've spent on your little 'spell', I could have snatched the souls of multiple lesser shamans.**_

_But… _His tongue froze at elder god's remark.

_**But… I do not seek to snatch your soul. **_Tablesse held his breath in hope.

_**No, I do not. Your little spirits demand I return you to them. As your magic was mostly anima, my claim on you is insufficient. **_Tablesse waited tensely, suspecting there was a catch. From his research, he was given the impression that elder gods were no compassionate beings.

_**I see you suspect I have designs on you. You are right. **_All of sudden, Tablesse sensed magic swirling all over him.

_**I place a curse on you, Harbinger of Blaze.**_

_**Know that your fate is sealed now in more ways than one.**_

_**You are now forever doomed to be Harbinger of Blaze.**_

_**To defy is to deliver more death than you would when you comply.**_

_**I have claims on you, Harbinger of Blaze.**_

_**Live forever as deliverer of death, or become vessel of mine.**_

_**Now you bear my mark, Harbinger of Blaze. **_

_**The mark you now bore is one of shame**_

_**This curse I place on you, he who sought the magic of Nyvoclair.**_

Tablesse had no chance to even protest as he felt his consciousness faded once more.

-x-x-x-x-

_Back in the present,_

_**The curse is true. What's worse, it's powerful. I have tried to resist it but then my body is taken over and mass murder happens. I know that from experience. **_

_**I was arrogant. I have played with fire. Monstrous, demonic, devilish fire. And everyone knows that if one plays with too much fire, he's going to be burnt. I, one of the most promising fire magic-castor of my time, am no exception. I must leave my mentor's service immediately before my curse kills them.**_

_You killed them anyway. _Alyss thought bitterly. She flipped to the next page, which turned out to be the last entry for the entire journal and seemed to have been written much later than the penultimate entry.

_**Today, I killed Edmund Ligust, my mentor. **_Alyss breath caught, and she kept on reading.

_**His murder made me think back on the day I was cursed by Nyvoclair, which is why I had searched for this journal and this entry is being written now. In the end, I killed him after all. The irony.**_

_**However, his death was necessary. My employer was right. Eturia cannot afford a war against Bern. Many Eturians still suffer the aftereffects of the famine last year, and to wage war is to murder all these people. The documents pertaining to the distribution of Eturia's resources could not afford to be hidden a day longer, and so I had to force those documents from his hands by all means necessary. **_

_**I am ashamed I had to kill Elizabeth. However, she was also too involved and would not have been able to avoid execution along with her father. No. I am just excusing myself. I am ashamed.**_

_**I just wish my master was not involved in the whole conspiracy group that was trying to invoke war between Eturia and Bern. It's a nasty business.**_

_**I think of the hypocrisy in me. I claim to kill for the greater good. For me, murder is a necessity, and so, if I am to kill, may as well kill the few whose death can save the many. For the greater good. It's a lie. A murder is a murder.**_

_**I saved Alyss. The one I liked, four years ago. I did not save her because of that though. Nor I did not save her because my mentor requested it neither. It was all for me. I want her to kill me. Since suicide is impossibility for me, I want the girl to kill me. That's why I marked her. And maybe because I was so frustrated at my life and I was taking my anger out on her. **_

_**I am such a mess. I am sick of killing. I am sick of my improvement in killing. I am sick of my indifference to killing. It is not like I could change. I cannot. I tried. The curse cannot be lifted. Even the old hag said so. I am such a mess.**_

_**I have a theory, although I am aware how well my last theory turned out to be. But I still have a theory. If I have a target that I could not kill even with the best of my abilities, I won't need to kill anymore. I would forever be trying to kill the same target, and as long as I am trying, Nyvoclair cannot claim my body. But this theory is stupid. It's not something I can just initiate. I am just wasting time with theories.**_

_**I should probably throw this diary away. **_

That was the end of the diary. Alyss tossed it onto the bed in the corner of the room.

"Please be careful, I like that diary." The voice brought chill through her spine. She would have turned around to face the man, had it not been for the feel of the edge of the dagger at her throat.

Making sure the fear did not make her voice tremble, she replied, "I am sorry about that."

"That's alright. It's been through worse." Alyss felt the blade leave her throat. "Turn around, Alyss Ligust. I won't kill you."

Expecting to feel the blade enter her at any moment, she slowly complied with the assassin's command. The man that she saw was undoubtedly the same man she had been yearning to kill for the last four years. The same haunted look, the same tired face, the same tension in the movements. It was as if the four years had not touched him once.

"I usually don't bring pretty ladies into my house. I go to their places." He opened the conversation.

"Shut up." She was feeling more vocal without the dagger at her throat. Her hands reached for the throwing knives in the sheath at her back.

"I would rather not have to burn my house, Alyss. Nor do I want to burn you. Don't reach for your weapons." His tone was cold and sharp. Knowing she's been found out, she retracted her hands.

"I read your diary."

"You read my diary." He nodded.

"You saved me because you wanted me to kill you."

"That is correct."

"So why not let me kill you?"

"It does not work that way. You have to kill me despite my best of attempts to protect myself. That is how it's going to happen. And sad to say, you are nowhere near the standard you can kill me." Alyss bit back her retort because she knew the statement to be true.

"So what's going to happen now? Are you going to kill me, Tablesse?" She felt her inside tighten as she said those words.

"I should, considering you will no doubt kill me otherwise. But I am still smitten by you, so you get to leave." As to emphasize his point, he stepped to the side, allowing Alyss an unobstructed passage to the door. Warily, she proceeded to the exit.

"I will still kill you."

"You have no idea how much those words are music to my ears." Before the door was shut, he whispered. "A pleasure to see you, Alyss. It puts me at ease to see you so well."

Alyss wanted to be angry at those words, but found that she could not.

-x-x-x-x-

_That man has been watching me for awhile. I hate being in tavern bars._ Alyss kept her attention on the man, all the while not letting the man know she was keeping an eye on him. She knew from the past few days' experience that a drunken man was inclined to hit on lone ladies in such places. _Where the hell's my contact?_

She hoped this contact was a solid lead, not another one of those wild goose chases.

For the last few months, her search for the Harbinger of Blaze was not progressing at all. After the encounter, the man had razed his house to the ground and disappeared in the night. Alyss had no clue where he had gone ever since.

The contact today was supposed to put a stop to all that.

The man who had been watching her was getting up. From the expression on his face, Alyss could guess what was coming. _Desperate men… _However, just before he could begin his approach, someone came to her table and set down, thwarting his attempt before it began.

Alyss looked at the newcomer, all the while berating herself for being too distracted by the lecherous man to sense this man's presence.

The new man was quite a dashing blond man and from his posture, Alyss knew the man was very aware of the fact. From his expression, she knew he found her attractive as well. She made a mental note not to let the man get carried away.

"What do you want?" Her tone was frosty.

"An ice queen, from the look of it." He did not seem fazed by her glare.

"I am waiting for somebody, so beat it." She suspected this was her contact, but said so anyway.

"I'm sure I am better than whoever you are looking for." This was her contact.

"I doubt it."

"True, I'm no match for the Harbinger." The man buried his face into his hands, as if he was depressed.

"Very funny. I want my information." She had to make sure she did not encourage his theatrical acts, even if she found them amusing.

"Yes, yes. All business, no pleasure. Although you look as if you could do with some."

"Now." She growled; she was not going to allow his flirting.

"No. You first. I give you mine afterwards." _Damn. He's not an amateur._

"How do I know you aren't bluffing?"

The man was all serious now. "You don't. However, you are in my city, full of my friends, and alone. You will just have to trust me."

She gritted her teeth. "Fine. But if you are playing me, you will regret it."

"I don't play with woman. I take my relationships seriously." Alyss rolled her eyes at that.

"Harbinger of Blaze is indeed an anima magic-user whose preference is flame magic. However, his most potent magic tome, the one termed Hephaestus, is endowed with dark magic. That's why his flames are rumored to be as powerful as Excalibur."

"It is." There was no doubt in the spy's words. Alyss wondered who he worked for.

"However, most of the time, he simply prefers to use 'fire' or 'elfire' tomes. Additionally, he would not be creating more of such tomes to be distributed."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." The man's eyes examined her, likely trying to detect any signs that she is lying or is unsure of her claim.

"Alright. You kept your part of the bargain. Here's mine." Apparently, she passed. "From the last I heard, the Harbinger is heading to Bern."

"Bern?" This was totally unexpected.

"Yes. He seems to be working for a Bernese lord."

"Where in Bern?"

"We don't know."

"What?"

"Remember that I promised I knew where he's headed. To expect an exact location is hoping for too much." She knew what he said was true.

"Alright. I guess our business is done." She stood up.

"It seems so." He gestured to the door, and they walked out of the tavern.

Alyss was about to head her way when the informant called her, "by the way, Miss…"

She turned back, wondering what he wanted with her. "Alyss. What?"

"Miss Alyss, if you need supplies to head to Bern, you might want to see the merchant called Merlinus. He's a merchant from Pherae, but he is currently in the city and has connections in Bern as well."

"Ahh, I see. Thank you." She smiled a little at his advice.

"No problem. I just felt bad giving you so little information. Well, have a nice day." He gave her a bow.

"Wait, what's your name?"

"Hmm? My name? My name is Matthew." With a wink, the man set off. Alyss watched him go, and turned her attention at the matter at hand. _Who the hell is this Merlinus?_

Now she had a lead.

-x-x-x-x-

**AN: Haha. A girl assassin. Go figure. I wanted this to be from Tablesse's prospective, then decided I should save that for later. **

**Also, It's cuz I do plan to write a full story of FE7 story, and to do it from Tablesse's point of view would be to give spoilers.**

**I am glad I chose to do mostly JTT series, cuz now I feel much more fun making simple story lines. It's quite fun, try it.**

**I have nothing planned for the next story(lie) so you might have to wait a while before the next one(truth). Unless you demand I do it quick(truth).**

**That's about it ppl, desoldeben out.**


	5. Hermione

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters who appeared in Fire Emblem. **

**AN: Here it is. I was away for long cuz I am also writing the next piece of JTT. Sry for the wait.**

-x-x-x-x-

Hermione

_The world is full of stupid people._ Hermione frowned as the two men began to brawl in their drunken states. Seeing such display of stupidity irritated her but it was good for business, as long as the brawlers entertained the rest of tavern customers instead of spreading the fight to them. The bouncer was already in position to separate the men should they get too rowdy. Hermione switched the tune she was playing on her lute into something more lively to liven the mood. With the change in the tune, the cheering began to pick up and the fight became more furious. _Why are they like this?_

To make matters worse, a totally intoxicated man approached her with lust plain on his face.

"Hey ther, sweet thang. Wanna have some reall fun wid' a reall maan?" His words were barely coherent. Ignoring the man, she continued to play her lute.

"Ey! Imma talkin' to ya, ya hear me? Dun be so mute!" He shoved himself right by her, waving his arms about. Hermione stopped her playing and put down her lute. At the death of the music, several heads turned. They saw her pick up a parchment and a coal and scribble on the material. After writing, she dropped her message into the drunken man's hands.

Falsely believing that she was giving him interest, the man gleefully looked down onto the parchment.

_**Just because I am mute does not mean I have no standards.**_

In his pathetic state, it took him awhile to read the words and even longer to comprehend the meaning. However, once he did, he looked up angrily; ready to pounce at her for the insult. At that moment, Hermione smashed the stool she had been sitting on onto the man's head. The man was knocked out flat on to the tavern floor and did not get up. Looking down on the now unconscious man, she dusted her hands, picked up her lute and continued the song she had been playing standing.

People looked at the spectacle for a moment and then returned to their drinks eventually.

Inside, she was fuming. _I hate these people._

The day after, she informed her employer she was going to stop work.

-x-x-x-x-

_Maybe I should have kept the job._ The cold was quite miserable. The rain soaking her cloak did not help too.

At the moment, Hermione was trekking through the beautiful forest trails of the mountains of Bern. The heavy downpour that was beating down on her was contributing to the tranquil atmosphere of bleak mountain top. _Damn the weathers. If it's gonna be cold, at least snow! _She grumpily shook the mud off her boots, only to have more staining them when she stepped on the next patch of soil. Giving up on the attempts to keep her clothing clean, she just silently – not that she had much other choice on that matter – marched on.

She was slightly low on financial capabilities at the moment and had been unable to pay for a caravan – which would have meant a much easier and drier trip – ride to the Town of Ferindo, a town frequented by rich and bored aristocrats for their holiday trips. She hoped to earn some more gold and, if possible, find a job.

Hermione heard the sound of a twig breaking. Instantly, she dropped down behind the bushed and checked her surroundings. _Small animals do not break twigs. Only big animals and humans do that. _Either of the two possibilities was likely meant well to a lone lady in the wilds. Focusing on the small sounds of rustling leaves, she began to locate the source.

Taking care not to make sounds herself, she tracked down her objective. She found them. There were three men in thick fur coats in the bushes. Being at higher terrain, she was able to observe them without being detected. At the moment, they were so focused on whatever they were doing that Hermione doubted they would have known her presence unless she tapped them on the shoulder.

Usually, she would have decided to sneak past the trio and be on her way. However, at that moment, she found herself unable to tear away. There was something wrong with the picture she was seeing. She strained her head trying to figure out what was disturbing her.

The men all had axes at their side. Their attention were focused on something quite a distance away – she could see how concentrated they were by the way they barely turned their heads away. Whatever their quarry is, they were really intent on getting it. It was then that she figured out what's been bugging her. If their quarry was an animal, they would not only be equipped with axes. Their target was probably human.

With the suspicion, Hermione moved to see what had their attention. She had to – reluctantly – move closer to the men because her original position did not give her the angle to see their target.

Indeed, it was human. She was a girl in cyan dress. She had long hair of the matching color. She was alone, watching blankly into the air, as if she was observing the raining. Hermione thought to herself, _why is she so elegant?_ Before the severity of the situation caught with her. Any fool could guess what the triple of men wanted. Just as she made the connection in her mind, the three men rose and began to approach the girl. _Those scumbags._ Rage filled her.

Any other people could have risen up and shouted out a warning. However, Hermione did not have such a luxurious option. Cursing her disability, she did the best thing she could. Not logically predicting that she had no chance winning three burly men any more than the cyan-haired girl did, Hermione sprinted towards them. She crashed into them from behind just as they emerged from the bush.

At that precise moment, searing pain engulfed her. Blaze enveloped the three men and she had ran into them.

The last thing she heard before she lost consciousness was, "Harbinger, you mad son of a bitch! There's a girl there!"

-x-x-x-x-

_Pain. Pain. Pain. It hurts to be alive. _Hermione's first thoughts were not so optimistic. However, granted the fact that she was in sheer agony, her pessimism should not be considered over-dramatic. She tried to open her eyelids and was congratulated with more pain. She then decided to not move at all.

With complete stillness, she could hear the conversation from another room.

The first male voice was the same voice that she had heard just before the fire spell had knocked her out. It was loud and barely disguising his anger. "You want to kill the girl? What the hell, Harbinger! Why did you heal her in first place then?"

The second voice did not voice a single emotion; this voice sent a chill down her spine. "Recall, Mark, that I only healed her burns because you were shrieking at me. I believe killing her would result in the optimal outcome for her."

For a moment, Hermione was wondering how her death could be best for her. Her misunderstanding was cleared when she heard the third voice. "I do not want her to die for me. She was trying to help me." It was a girl's voice, gentle and petit. Hermione assumed the person was the cyan-haired girl.

Harbinger replied, "do not be benevolent. If your presence gets known, more people will die. Would you risk that just because of one person?

The first voice – the one Hermione decided to term her 'defender' – argued. "There are other ways to silence people; like, asking. I know you have to kill people, but try to control your urges."

Harbinger's voice got colder and sharper. "Oh? Is that so? So what if she lives? She is in no condition to leave. If we do choose to save her, we would have to escort her away from here. She's just a burden."

"Oh, so now you are going to kill her because she's a dead weight? What the hell, Harbinger. You are one cold son of a bitch."

"I am just stating the facts."

"Well, so was I, you cold son of a…"

"That's enough, please. Please do not fight." The girl's voice cut in. "Sir Tablesse, while your logic is correct, I cannot just kill a person because she is going to slow us."

"See that? Even she thinks you are a cold…"

"Mark. Stop that."

"I'm just stating the truth, Ninian."

"Mark."

"Fine."

"Thank you. Would you be kind enough to escort the girl to the nearest human settlement? I will continue on my way with Sir Tablesse."

"You are going to go alone with him?"

"Do you not trust me?" Harbinger/Tablesse's voice was heard.

There was a stretch of silence.

Mark's curt reply was, "I don't. However, I do trust your employer."

"That is all you need to trust. We should leave immediately. The bothersome ordeal had taken some of our time and leaves us no more to dawdle. Let's go, Lady Ninian."

"Be careful, Ninian. I will try to meet you before you leave." Mark's voice was full of worry.

"Farewell, Mark. I hope to see you there before I leave." Ninian's voice contained no such worry, but did hold sorrow.

Tablesse's unemotional voice said, "by the way, the girl had been conscious for a while. She would have heard fair bit of our conversation. I still think it is good idea to kill her but the choice is yours."

There was the sound of door opening. Moments later, there was the sound of door closing.

After that, there was the sound of door opening again. However, the sound was much closer this time.

"You know I know you are awake. Let's not play games," was the opening ice-breaker from Mark.

Straining, Hermione opened her eyes. She frowned at the effort and the pain.

"I'm Mark, your name?" Unlike her expectations, Mark's expression was not friendly. _How am I going to tell him I need paper and chalk if I do not have paper and chalk?_ Hermione wondered irritatedly.

That's why she was mildly surprised when the man slipped a wooden plank under her hand and pressed into the same hand a piece of charcoal.

"Here you go, this should be enough." A smirk came to his face.

_**How did you know?**_Was her first sentence.

"I inspected your possessions. I had to make sure you really were no spy of sorts. I just found your notebook and made the deduction."

_**Are you going to kill me?**_

"Probably not. I do not really kill girls. They are more fun alive." Mark's hard look slow began to peel off as he talked.

Hermione glared at him for the last sentence. Mark saw the look and rolled his eyes.

"You girls. Always assuming that we are being suggestive when we say something like that. Despite what you want to believe, not everything we say is sexually implicit."

_**Perhaps not everything, but almost enough.**_

"Had some bad experience, huh? Alright, I won't crack such jokes then. You are pretty enough to have been harassed in such manners, I guess. Just tell me your name."

_**Hermione. **_

"After the princess, huh? Nice name. So where do you live, Hermione? I will drop you there."

Hermione just remembered something very important. _**Where's my lyre?**_

Suddenly, Mark did not look so comfortable. "The lyre? Why? Is that precious to you?"

_**Not much. It just happens to be my sole source of income. Why do you ask?**_

"Umm. You see; not all of your possessions survived the unfortunate incident of you collapsing unscathed." Hermione did not like where the conversation was heading.

Mark continued, "in fact, one can say your lyre was the worst off of the lot. I wouldn't agree, but it's a close competition." Hermione's jaw clenched as her suspicion was confirmed.

_**Meh. Kill me now. It's no different to me.**_

"Wow, wow, wow. Don't say that now. Might make me feel bad."

_**It's true. A mute bard without a lyre? Who's going to hire me?**_

"Hmm. Why not change your job?"

_**No. Leave me alone.**_ She turned away from the guy and closed her eyes.

She reminisced how she became a bard.

-x-x-x-x-

_Seven years ago,_

A slap struck the side of her face. Accompanied by the pain, Hermione emerged from unconsciousness.

Another slap. She wanted to cry out, but found out that she could not. More blows came, but she could not make a single sound.

"Excellent, Jeffinton. You've done a splendid job. She's not making a single sound." A slurry, low tone voice spoke.

"Good quality service for good pay is my motto, Lord Evingel." The second voice was much more frigid and high pitched.

"Indeed. Thanks to you, my entertainments and pleasures will be much more silent. You have my thanks." There was a slight chuckle in the lord's words.

It was then that Hermione remembered what had happened to her in the past few days. Just a few days ago, she was snatched from the woods – where she had been secretly training her singing – by Evingel's men. The lecherous demon had locked her in a cell and violated her whenever he had wanted. Each time, she had resisted as much as she could physically and vocally. Last night, he had threatened to silence her forever. Now she knew it had been no threat but a warning.

Silently, tears slid down her face. Singing had been her secret passion for the most of her life. Without it, her life seemed meaningless.

"Oh look, doctor. The girl cries. Such a lovely thing, isn't she?"

"Quite, Lord Evingel. You have good eyes for things, I must admit."

"Yes, yes. Leave us, Jeffinton. The girl and I are going to have a passionate night tonight." The grin on his face was hungry in an animalistic fashion."

"Of course, Lord Evingel." The lord was peeling the clothing off her even before his henchman had left them. Still distraught at what these vile creatures had done to her, Hermione did not resist.

Evingel was about to remove her under garments when a voice was heard. "That's far enough, Lord Evingel. Please kindly remove your filthy hands from the young lady."

"Who is that?" Evingel's reaction was swift; his hands were reaching for his fire tome as he spoke.

From the darkness, an arrow appeared and ripped the tome from the aristocrat's hands. The second missile followed and embedded itself into the shoulder of the man. Evingel screamed. Then a third came and entered his thigh.

"Scream some more and I will put another in you."

Hermione could see the lord visibly forcing himself to remain silent. "Who, who are you?"

A man came out of the darkness. He seemed about fortyish. His longbow and arrows clearly showed that he was the assaulter.

"Nice to meet you, Lord Evingel. I am the Huntsman. Perhaps you've heard of me?" From the shudder, Hermione knew the noble did.

Without warning, the lord yelled out, "Jeffinton! Come quick!" Instant later, Huntsman stabbed an arrow into the lord's side.

"Tsk, tsk, my lord. Even if you know you are going to die, you shouldn't be asking for help from your dead henchman. He deserves his eternal rest too, you know." The lord's eyes closed.

Pulling his arrow out of the corpse, the Huntsman carelessly discarded the man. He wiped the blood off with the dead man's rich robes and then returned the arrow back to his quiver.

Then he turned to her. "Hello, there."

She stared at him.

He took of his cloak and approached her.

She backed away.

He stopped approaching and offered his cloak. "Cover yourself with this."

Reluctantly, she received the cloak.

Seeing the untrusting glare she was giving her, Levin knew she wasn't going to be easy to talk to.

"This is going to be a loooong conversation."

-x-x-x-x-

"Again? Hermione. This has got to stop." Hermione heard Levin as he found her.

She had been secretly been crying again.

The Huntsman put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, which she brushed off. He did not try again. Instead, he grabbed her paper and chalk and placed them by her side. She ignored those.

"Hermione, your voice is lost. It is regrettable, but you have to move on."

They had tried ways to fix what Jeffinton had done to her, but had failed each time.

"Stop moping and figure out a way to get on with your life. I can't take care of you for long."

Angrily, she grabbed the writing materials she had been ignoring and furiously scribbled.

_**Go then. I didn't ask for you to stay. You are free to leave.**_

"Hermione," was his grim reply.

_**You have no idea what singing was to me. It was my everything. How can you just tell me to just move on? **_

"I've lost my everything before. I moved on, didn't I?"

Hermione looked at him in surprise at the answer. The Huntsman did not meet her eyes. His eyes had lost focus, as he recalled his past.

"It's hard, I know. You cannot imagine how you are going to survive the day after without them. I know how it's like. I hear the voice taunting me often, 'Levin. They are gone. You are nothing now.' I know how it's like to lose everything in an instant." Hermione saw his eyes turn moist, something she did not expect from the hardened assassin.

"But, Hermione, you can do it. You can't just sit around doing nothing. In the end, you define your life. Nothing is ultimately able to lead you to your downfall except yourself. I hope you can rescue yourself."

_**You are crying.**_

"Indeed I am, Hermione. I am a human. I smile, I cry."

_**Singing was my everything. **_

"If music was your everything. Figure out a way to bring it back to your life. Fight, Hermione. Fight it out."

Hermione looked at the man in tears. She reached for her handkerchief, reached for him and began to wipe his tears.

-x-x-x-x-

Hermione was annoyed to find tears in her eyes. Although she and Levin had travelled together for only a month, he had been a very big presence in her life. He had given her the strength to live on and motivated her playing of the lyres.

"Hermione? Are you alright?" Mark's voice expressed concern.

_Losing the lyre is nothing like losing my voice. _Hermione's eyes gleamed with determination. She turned back to the man and scribbled a demand on the plywood.

_**Buy me a lyre.**_

"What?" Mark was taken aback at the suddenly determined lady at his side.

_**You blind? Buy me a lyre. You people broke my old one, so you should help me get a new one.**_

"Quite a character, aren't you?" Mark could see the determination within the bard. A stroke of inspiration struck him. "I have an idea." She looked at him expectantly.

"Why don't you work for me?" Hermione imagined that he was being suggestive and was about to retort, then remembered his previous comment and stilled the coal.

Mark grinned at her, as if he knew what had just gone through her head.

"My occupation involves a lot of travelling. Travelling is more pleasant with a bard."

_**You are not telling me things.**_

"Indeed, I am not. I can't trust you with secrets."

_**And you want me to trust you enough to trust you?**_

"Yes. I can assure you though; no desperate men will disturb you." A smirk lingered in his face and somehow made Hermione smile.

_**Alright then. But the pay must be good.**_

"Welcome to the family, Hermione."

-x-x-x-x-

**AN: I need to start the main plot… I can't reveal stuff here without revealing the plot in the main one. Oh the dilemma. I guess I have to do what I have to do.**

**I think I am writing too many girl character stories. At least I hope they are good.**

**I don't really have much to say. Bye ppl.**

**desoldeben out.**


	6. Lucrius Part 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own characters not made by me. I know there aren't many in this story, but there are a few mentioned and appearing, so just keep this in the mind.**

**AN: I worked on Hermione after I started this one. This one just came later because it had to be more thought out.**

**Gunlord500: Hermione is well known from Hogwarts. Can't blame you for thinking that. However, the origin of the name is not the lovely muggle-born witch of Gryffindor but a princess of Sparta whose mother was once the possessor of the title of the most beautiful woman in the world. For your sake, I will tell you more about the Harbinger. To the present society of Elibe, Harbinger of Blaze is just the title of the most renowned assassin in Elibe. Tablesse just decided to call himself that after he turned assassin. Of course, what Harbinger of Blaze means to Nyvoclair is a different story…**

-x-x-x-x-

Lucrius _(part 1)_

Ilians do not have purple hair. This man did. If there was any observer at the site, he would have been confused as to why a non-Ilian would be traversing through the treacherous Ilian Mountains in the middle of the winter. However, there was nobody else so Lucrius Eylat traveled unhindered.

He was not travelling for the sake of pleasure. As he was assaulted by the soul-chilling cold of the Ilian winter, he constantly grumbled. He was glad he was an anima mage; the current trip would have been far more lethal without the continuous stream of fire magic he was casting to keep his temperature up.

He stopped at one of the few clearings in the mountain. _Where's the blasted cave?_ He was sure he had arrived at his destination. He increased his sensitivity to magic and probed the area. He found a flux of magic to his right. _There you are. _He entered the area, well aware that he was entering a place he may not be exiting, in the worst case scenario.

-x-x-x-x-

It was warm inside the cave; Lucrius was pleasantly surprised to find it so. Considering that it inhabited people, he should have expected it. In fact, it was getting quite uncomfortable to wear his thick winter wear. He decided to take it off.

"Don't get too comfortable, Lucrius. You may not be staying." Lucrius stopped, his initial discomfort forgotten at the voice.

"It's fatally cold outside. Let me just thaw the frost out, alright?" He hoped his voice was friendly enough to hide his anxiety.

"Don't give me that bullshit, Lucrius. This is not a social visit. You are not the type. What do you want?" _I see she hasn't changed. Never the one to mess with. _He found his minding relaxing despite the severity of the situation. _If she hasn't changed, I'm going to show her neither have I._

When he replied, a tone of confidence layered his words. "Come on, Niime. Like you said, you know me. Have I ever been the one to waste your time?"

There was a moment of silence before the druid replied. "No, I can't say you've ever." She emerged from the darkness of the cave, her eyes still showing the wariness she felt about her visitor.

"Welcome to my home, Lucrius. I hope you are not expecting much, because I am not offering any niceties."

"Nice to see you too, Niime. I see you are still the same; breathtaking as always." She rolled her eyes at that before turning and leading the way. Lucrius followed, glad he was not going to be immediately eradicated by the powerful druid.

-x-x-x-x-

Lucrius wondered what the cushion was made of because, damn, it was comfortable. He then noticed countless tomes at the corner of the room and his scholarly tendencies made him curious to their contents. _Wonder if she will let me read some of these._

His attention returned to his host as she spoke to him. "You haven't changed that much either."

"Does that mean you still find me attractive?"

"Oh please, Lucrius. Yodel was cute. You? An obnoxious brat."

"Right, Yodel. I never understood why you two broke off."

"You never really understood why preferences in magic could drive people apart, considering you dabbled in all of them yourself." Her comment made him wince slightly.

"Yeah, I guess that's why. Hey, heard you got married."

"The guy's a moron. Don't talk about him." _Okay… Not a happy marriage._

He decided to change topics. "Are you in contact with Limstella?"

Niime seemed surprised at the question. "Limstella? Why are you asking me? Wasn't she your soulmate or something?"

Lucrius's heart stung at the word 'soulmate'. "Hmm. I have lost contact with her two years ago. We had a falling out."

"Hmm?" Niime's eyebrow rose in wonder. "I never spoke to her after all of us separated five years ago. Lucrius expected some snide comments about the break-up and was surprised when none came. _Maybe she was hit harder than I thought with her break-up with Yodel._ Lucrius never thought Niime was one to care for love, but now he was not sure.

"She never visited you in the last two years?" Lucrius's mind was racing at this new information.

"Does she have a reason to?"

"I kind of expected her to pay you a visit after all that."

"After all what?" Niime displayed irritation at Lucrius's vagueness.

Lucrius took in a deep breath before speaking. "Do you know of a tome called Ereshkigal?"

A dangerous glint came to Niime's eyes. "Where have you heard the name? Wait. Don't tell me…"

"Yes. Limstella is looking for the tome."

Niime sighed. "Why? Wasn't she researching on…what's it called?"

"Quintessence. She called it quintessence."

"Yes. Quintessence, whatever that is. Wasn't she studying on that?"

"She was. In fact, I think she discovered something. One day, she just declared she is looking for the tome and when I said I was not going to abandon my research for a dark tome, she left."

"So that's why you thought she would come to me?"

"Yeah, if I am to find a powerful dark magic tome, I would come to you."

"And you thought I would have helped you?" Her comment was curt.

"Oh." _I never thought of that._

"Yeah. Oh."

"Haven't thought of that."

"Of course you didn't." Only Niime could make him feel like a total fool.

"But what are the chances Limstella could find the tome without your help?"

"The chances are practically non-existent. Otherwise I would be leaving here right now in order to hunt her down." _Well, there's a pleasant thought. _He was about to reply when Niime cut in. "By the way, what project were you working on that you couldn't accompany your sweetheart?" Lucrius gulped slightly.

"Do you remember the project five years ago?"

"How could I forget? It was one of those rare moments in my life when I almost died." The scorn in the voice was evident.

"Well, I never was really satisfied with the results. So I continued working along those lines."

The shock on Niime's face suggested that she was dealing with a fool. "You continued the work after meeting Nyvoclair? Lucrius, even I do not try to meet with the elder go…" Lucrius put up his hand to halt her berating.

"I did not encounter any more elder gods. I'm not a moron, Niime."

Niime crossed her arms as if to comment 'I beg to differ'. "So what are you trying to do? Your attempt to merge fire anima with elder magic invoked a meeting Nyvoclair; a meeting you would not have escaped unscathed had there not been Yodel and I at the scene. Are you going to merge lightning with elder this time?"

Upon discussing a topic he had been researching on, Lucrius's enthusiasm started to show. "Lightning? No! Lightning's bad for merging. Too volatile. Not wind either. I think wind is much more suited for merging with light magic."

Despite herself, Niime felt the sage's enthusiasm catching on. "What do you mean? Anima is the trinity of fire, lightning and wind. What else could you work with other than those thre… wait a minute…"

The excitement was expressed evidently on Lucrius's face. "Yes. My favorite tome. I think it is possible to merge Fimbulvetr with dark magic."

-x-x-x-x-

"I do not understand why I am going along with this horse shit." Lucrius ignored her, having heard that comment about a dozen times in the last hour. To his side, Niime was going through the research notes he had brought pertaining to his study. After perusing through and still finding no flaws in the workings, she put them down irritatedly.

"Explain to me again, Lucrius. I like to listen to stupid things in your voice. It's fitting." Lucrius rolled his eyes but decided to humor her nonetheless.

"Fimbulvetr is the magic quite separate among the anima. It's unique that it invokes ice, something that is not part of the trinity. The trinity is too linked with each other; it interferes with the merging. However, Fimbulvetr has no such links. Also, it is the most similar to dark magic anyway, to have an amalgamation between the two should not be an impossible task."

Niime ran her hands through her hair frustratedly. "I am only going with this because your workings are sound, Lucrius. However, I will still hold you responsible if something goes awry."

"Alright. Let's begin." _So, let's see what we've got._

-x-x-x-x-

"Well, what do you say to that? I say it's a smashing success!" The excitement in Lucrius was unconcealed.

Niime folded her arms and studied the results. The entire section of forest was frozen solid; she could tell that the vegetations were dead under the ice. "I must say, that is quite impressive."

"Not only that, I'm sure the tome surpasses even the Excalibur!" He was practically bobbing up and down with joy.

"Congratulation on that, I didn't know that was important," she rolled her eyes, "what are you going to name the tome?"

"Hmm? Its name? I guess I will call it Fimbulvetr Boreas. No need for a completely new name, do I?" Lucrius eyed his new tome lovingly.

"You are such a child." Niime chuckled at the sage's enthusiasm.

"It's something worth getting exultant over." He defended indignantly.

Niime got up and took the tome from the sage's hands. Lucrius's hand reached for it for a split second before he caught himself and retracted. _Do not be so possessive. Niime's contribution enabled the creation of the tome._

"I must say, Lucrius, this tome has its appeals." Niime spoke without lifting her gaze from the tome.

"I know." Lucrius felt uneasy.

"Do you know what that means?" _You want to take it from me. _Lucrius controlled his tongue from forming his first thought. Knowing Niime, she was trying to inform him something. He calmed his mind, and processed what her words signified. His intelligent mind raced until something clicked.

"It's not just an anima tome. It's a dark tome as well. Otherwise you won't be interested in it."

At his answer, Niime clapped slowly. "Well done, Lucrius. Nailed it on the first try. It's an elder tome as well. And I have no idea which elder deity empowers this one. You might want to watch out."

"Duly noted." Lucrius did not appreciated being told to watch himself but since it was Niime who was advising over an issue of dark magic, he did not retort.

"By the way, Lucrius. You might want to head to Aquleia."

"Why's that?" A frown formed on his face as he remembered his home city.

"You want to speak to Yodel."

Confusion crept to his face. "What? No I don't!"

"Yes. You do." _Oh._ Niime was not giving a suggestion.

"Right. Remind me why I wanted to see him again?" _May as well get this over with._

"Well, he could help you with combining light magic and air magic."

"And?" He was waiting for her to get to the point.

"And, he could probably tell you about Ereshkigal." That caught his attention.

"Really? Do remind me more." _Looks like I want to see him after all._

-x-x-x-x-

City of Aquleia is reputed to be the pinnacle of human ingenuity and learning. The architectures of the buildings at the centre of the city are more advanced than any other nations, and the people who are sheltered within the said structures are possibly the greatest intellectuals and the most enlightened in the continent.

Lucrius despised them and their sheltered lives.

Lucrius had never really thought highly of the aristocrats of Eturia or the church despite being from one of the most reputable family of the country. While he did graduate from the College of Eturia with brilliant accomplishments and reputation, he had not joined the Council of the Supremes as his father had desired, allowing Lucrius's ever charismatic sister to claim the seat. Instead, he chose to isolate himself from the Council and its messy politics, just so he could pursue his own goals unhindered.

Also, he did not enjoy working with the hypocritical, scheming aristocrats who were basically no different from the brutal Bernese nobles albeit in possession of much more discreet methods.

As he always did, Lucrius travelled through the slums of the city so as to avoid meeting any aristocrats. His plain travel garbs attracted no attention, and his purple hair was common among Eturians enough to catch no eyes.

He walked through the filthy, fetid environment of the slums and renewed his disrespect of the Eturian authority and the church. _How could they allow the people to live in such a manner?_ As he emerged from the slums and entered the merchant district of the city, he wondered what fiascos the council was plotting at the current moment then pushed the matter away from his mind. He stopped for a moment to garner his attention and check his surroundings only to realize that he had reached the rendezvous point.

_Well, let's see how much of a pompous cushion Yodel had become. _Not looking forward to the meeting, Lucrius entered the Church of the Healers. It was a small church at edge of the merchant district and Yodel's current post.

At the moment of his entry, he was immediately bombarded by noise of children and its creators. Before he could escape, hordes of children had tackled him and pinned him to the ground, tugging at his hair, clothes, satchel and face. They were laughing the way children do, innocent despite being evil. Lucrius hated children. _I hate children._

A clap was produced and instantly caught the brats' attentions. A girl's voice called out, laughing. "There, there, my darlings. Please don't suffocate our new visitor. Come here and I'll give you all a sweet!" Cheering, Lucrius's assaulters went for his savior in a matter of seconds. Grumbling, Lucrius got up and dusted himself. He looked at the direction of the retreating horde of kids, and caught glimpse of a petit figure with a long lock of wavy azure hair before all of them turned a corner and went out of his sight.

"Welcome, my friend. I hope the reception committee was to your liking?" A voice gently spoke from behind him.

Startled, Lucrius literally jumped to face the speaker. He recognized the bishop immediately.

"Yodel! You scared the heart out of me!"

Yodel gave a hearty laughter. "Well then, I reckon this is the first and the probable last time I get the better of you."

Seeing the bishop, Lucrius couldn't help but feel that he had been too quick assume Yodel had joined the rest of the ineffective, parasitical higher-ups. Feeling much better, he offered his hand to the old friend.

"Your welcoming committee sucked." The sage said with a smile.

-x-x-x-x-

Despite the comfy seat and the brilliant tea, Lucrius was irritated.

"I'm sorry, Lucrius. I don't know why Niime thought I could help, but all I know about the dark tome Ereshkigal is the history of it." The bishop's expression was one of genuine regret, which somehow worsened his mood.

"Never mind. I guess Niime was just messing with me."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps she was just trying to help me."

"What do you mean by that?" Niime or not, Lucrius did not like being used by anyone without his knowledge.

"Well, you see, I sent Niime a letter a time ago asking if she knew anybody who…"

"Whoa, hold up. You messaged Niime?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Is this after you broke up with her?"

"Umm. Yes. Why do you ask?" Yodel frowned with confusion. Lucrius facepalmed.

"Never mind, Yodel. What did you say to her?"

"I asked her if she knew anyone who was traveling and was willing to take on a cleric on their journey."

"You contacted her to speak about another gir… hold on a damn second. Are you saying Niime sent me here because of that?" The content of Yodel's words took Lucrius's mind off the bishop's stupidity.

"I believe that is the possibility."

"That scheming druid!" He had lost all sympathy to the woman now.

"Does this mean you are not going to take her on?"

"Are you kidding me? Why would I do such an idiotic act? I don't want some good-for-nothing cleric chasing me and wasting my resources!"

"That's quite offensive." Yodel's tone got hard.

Lucrius flinched at the change in the bishop. He reminded himself that Yodel was compassionate, not a push-over. "You are right. I apologize."

"It is not I who should be the recipient. It's her."

"What? Why? She didn't hear me say it."

"That is beside the point. Lucrius." Lucrius found that he could not keep eye contact with the bishop.

"Tell you what, I will take her in. Just for a year. Would that be apology enough?" He hated himself for saying those words.

A warm smile came to Yodel's face. "That's fantastic, Lucrius. Thank you very much." _Cunning bastard. I knew Niime couldn't have liked him for being nice._

"Yes, yes. I'm a saint. Well, now that that's wrapped up, let me discuss something else with you. What do you think of combining light magic with anima?" He was not going to leave this place without getting something beneficial out of it.

-x-x-x-x-

Lucrius was a much happier man after the three hour discussion with Yodel regarding his research. Now, he had the basic idea how to begin incorporating light magic with wind magic. He felt confident that by this time next year, he would have succeeded in his research.

Indeed, as he got up to depart, he was in a pleasant mood.

Until… "Lucrius. You've forgotten someone." _Damn it. _Lucrius haven't, but was hoping Yodel had.

"Hmm? What are you talking about?" He faked ignorance.

Yodel saw through the act but did not point out. "Your new companion. Remember?"

"Oh, right. All right. Let's get this over with." His mood was much lower now. With a nod, Yodel exited the room – Lucrius briefly considered then escaping out the window, but held back for his old friend's sake – and returned.

Lucrius looked up to observe his new travel companion – and paused.

The lady was petit and had a long lock of wavy azure hair. He had not been able to see her face when he had encountered – if the situation could be termed so – her previously, but now that he saw her, it struck him that she was mesmerizing. She was not as beauteous and voluptuous as Limstella was, in fact, she was quite the other end of the spectrum. She looked innocent, adorable and kind-hearted. _She's really cute._

"Well, you seem pleased." The bishop's words shook Lucrius out of his reverie. Yodel was barely suppressing his grin at the sage's expression. Even then, Lucrius could not help but admiring how lovely the cleric looked blushing.

Bishop helped Lucrius get control of himself with a light but firm tap to the back.

"Hmm?" Lucrius realized how mesmerized he had been, "oh, well, I guess she's okay."

"More than okay, from your expression." _Bishop's are not supposed to look so sly._

"Have no idea what you are talking about. What did you say her name was?" He averted his gaze from the cleric with an effort.

"I told you before, her name is 'Besotted'."

"Besotted? That's a wonderful…" Then his mind processed the current situation. "You little rascal." He muttered as the bishop erupted into a laughter.

"Got you twice in one day. Seems like it's becoming a habit." Lucrius would have retorted with some smart comebacks had it not been for an azure-haired lady at the scene.

Gritting his teeth, he squeezed out, "very amusing, bishop. Now tell me what her name is or I will forever address her as 'Besotted'."

"Touché. She's called Selene Imagiea."

"Selene. I see." He faced the alluring figure. "It is a pleasure to meet you." He smiled.

"And you as well, Sir Eylat." She gave a small bow.

"Please, call me Lucrius."

Yodel smiled widely at the scene and left with, "I'll leave you to talk." Lucrius did not even notice.

As he gently shut the door behind him, Yodel thought how pleasant Lucrius had become from the aloof sage with biting tongue in the presence of the cleric.

-x-x-x-x-

Although he would never admit it, when Lucrius exited the church, he was jubilant. He could not remember the last time he had enjoyed being in the presence of anybody much. The lady, Selene Imagiea, just made him delighted to be in existent and he did not know how she did it. Not even Limstella had such an effect on him before.

He was whistling as he marched away from the church, visualizing the two's travels that would start tomorrow, once Selene had her affairs in order before leaving. He believed the rest of the day would be great.

Of course, it was not to be so.

Lucrius was still whistling when he heard, "it's nice to know you don't even bother to visit your mother despite being in a mile radius of her, Lucrius." Immediately, his mood plummeted. He turned around to find a short, bony woman clad in fine clothing glaring at him. She was equipped with a cane, a tool she used to combat wariness and repel fools. The forceful glint in the eyes, however, would have told any acute observer of the immense knowledge and secrets she had in her possession.

"Lovely to see you too, mother." He was not going to enjoy a conversation with this woman.

"At least be convincing when you are bluffing, boy. I didn't raise you to be so unskilled."

"Of course, mother. My apologies."

"Much better, now you at least look apologetic." Lucrius could feel a headache coming on already.

"To what do I owe this displeasure?"

Quick as a lightning, the cane knocked him on the head.

"There's a fine line between cheeky and rude, boy."

"Indeed, mother."

"I don't know what I did wrong to deserve a child like you."

"Thankfully, you had my sister shortly afterwards."

"Hmph. At least you know where you stand."

"How could I not, mother? When you literally rammed the concept into me?"

She spat to the side. "Beh. The very inhaling of the air you have exhaled makes me feel inane." Lucrius silently waited for her to get to the point.

"I've heard you've been seeking Ereshkigal?"

"How did you…" Lucrius stopped half way; he was sure he did not want to know how.

"Listen up, boy. If you really need the Ereshkigal, I can tell you."

Lucrius was about to enquire, but then held himself back. _What's on her mind? She's not one for charity. She must want something._

"I don't want anything, you stupid boy. Even if I did, you are incapable of providing what I desire." Lucrius wondered for the umpteenth time in his life whether his mother could read minds.

"Don't waste my time; do you want to know the location or not?" Her tone displayed her irritation.

"Yes. Yes, I do." Even if it was not for Limstella – which was still the main reason he was interested in the tome Ereshkigal – he wanted to know about the tome from a scholar's perspective as well. A wicked grin came to his mother's face.

"Do you know of Bramimond?"

"Yes, mother. How could I not?" Even peasants knew of the eight heroes.

"Well, seek him out in Valor. He holds the path to Ereshkigal in his palms." With those words, a circle of magic formed around her and began to resonate with magic. Lucrius recognized the teleportation runes.

Lucrius cried out in bewilderment. "What? The man is dead! What do you mean?"

The woman cackled in delight. Before the magic finalized, she announced, "your sister is getting married, Lucrius. At least pay her a visit before her children grow and get married themselves, you hear? Although I'm sure I'm hoping for too muc…" His mother teleported as she grumbled. Lucrius couldn't help but feel that it was very characteristic of her.

Now that the irritable woman was gone, Lucrius tried to process what he's just been fed with.

While her mother could be extremely frustrating to deal with, Lucrius had to admit she was never the one to waste time. Although he was not willing to bet that the old hag had not gone senile with age, he admitted that she seemed to possess full control over all her faculties.

_I guess if I search about Bramimond, I will find a lead to Ereshkigal. _He also remembered her mentioning a place called Valor. _Where the hell is that? I should look into that too._

He began to walk, needing to find a suitable place to spend the night before setting off with Selene in the morning.

_So… my sister is getting married… Looks like everybody is ending up espoused._ Without intending to, a sigh escaped him.

_Maybe I will go visit her when her first child turns fifteen._

He was serious.

-x-x-x-x-

**AN: IT IS DONE! I've been working on this one so long. I'm glad I'm done with this part 1. As you can probably tell, there will be more parts! (inserts cheers by himself)**

**Part 2 won't be immediately following. I will have some more random people before I return with the sage. However, I assure you, it will be here.**

**On the side note, I am now starting on the main plot. I know some people are just sick of the main plot but I need the Lyn's story curve set out (with my own modifications, of course) before I hit you people with another original story. I will however be skipping many mundane, banal and prosaic parts of the story so hopefully it will be easy on you people.**

**Oh. If you guys are kind enough, please hit me with random people ideas for me to start with. I could come up with random people (like a cattle farmer) but I want random people whose stories will still entertain!**

**That's all for today folks, desoldeben out.**


End file.
